


home is just a room full of my safest sounds

by FullmetalChords



Series: japan's ace, katsuki yuuri [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Katsuki Yuuri, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Morning Wood, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 14:03:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16368998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalChords/pseuds/FullmetalChords
Summary: “You don’t have to leave for that,” Yuuri says, because he knows just as well as Victor does what it is he’s about to ‘take care of’ in the bathroom, alone, away from Yuuri. It’s far from the first time that they’ve gotten a little too deep into kissing, that Victor’s become so aroused from being close to Yuuri that he’s had to make his excuses and furtively jerk off in the bathroom. Yuuri can’t say he can relate to the feeling… although it is flattering, in its way.What he doesn’t like is Victor trying to hide, like it’s shameful. It’s somehow worse because they’ve been through this before, and Victor seemed to have gotten over whatever was holding him back then.Victor looks back at him in surprise, and Yuuri carries on.“Stay,” he says, crawling across the bed towards him. “Let me see you this time.”--Early morning intimacy between asexual Yuuri and allosexual Victor.





	home is just a room full of my safest sounds

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally going to have to make a series with all my ace!Yuuri fics, aren't I? I am.
> 
> happy asexual awareness week, everyone :)

There is a hard-on pressing into Yuuri’s side.

He blinks, owlishly, in the soft light coming in through the window as he takes a slow tally of his surroundings. It’s an hour before their alarm is set to go off. He can hear Makkachin snoring out in the living room. And yep, that is definitely an erection pressing against him from behind, where Victor is holding Yuuri and still, as far as he can tell, fast asleep.

A year ago — hell, a few months ago — this exact situation might have filled Yuuri with terror. With frantic thoughts of his inadequacy, of Victor having some kind of insidious hidden desires, of deep fears that their relationship could never possibly work if Victor wanted to have sex and Yuuri didn’t.

Because Yuuri’s never wanted sex. Not with anyone; not even with Victor. Back when they had first gotten together, Yuuri had wanted to want it, so badly, thinking that Victor would never stay with him otherwise. He had been so convinced that love without sex was somehow lesser, inferior, that he wasn’t capable of loving Victor to the full extent that he deserved to be loved.

The past year has shown him the complete opposite.

Yuuri could never have conceived of the infinite forms that intimacy could take even without involving sex in the equation; movies and songs and television, after all, all insisted that while sex could come without intimacy, there could be no ‘real’ love without sex. Even his own short program last season had told this lie — one that Yuuri had been able to enact so convincingly that he’d fooled the entire world into thinking he was some sort of incubus who had seduced Victor away from his career.

But life with Victor… cooking for Victor, dancing with Victor, sharing a bed with Victor, smoothing creams and tinctures into Victor’s skin as part of a precise nightly twelve-step skincare regimen — sex isn’t an activity they do together, and yet Yuuri can think of no more meaningful way for the two of them to be closer. He and Victor have no secrets; no distance between them.

Victor snuffles quietly in his sleep, pulling Yuuri that much closer to move unconsciously against him. He murmurs something that could be Yuuri’s name, the insistent swell of his erection unmistakably present against Yuuri’s ass, and Yuuri feels the tips of his ears grow hot.

“Victor,” he murmurs, taking his fiance’s hand where it rests against his stomach and giving it a gentle shake. “Wake up.”

“Hmmmmmm?” Victor stirs, making the most adorable sleepy noises. “S early…”

“I know,” Yuuri says, drily. “Your dick woke me up.”

He says it lightly, teasing, and Victor makes a little squeak of surprise.

“Oops,” he says, and there is a rush of cold air at Yuuri’s back as he pulls away. “So sorry, darling. Seems little Vitusha is a bit overexcited this morning.” From halfway across the bed, he gives a little self-deprecating giggle.

“Mm.” Yuuri rolls over to face him, feeling bereft without Victor’s warmth at his back. “How about a proper good morning, then?”

Victor opens his mouth, then shuts it, his lips sucked into his mouth.

“Ah… In a minute, zolotse. I really should brush my teeth before—”

“Don’t be silly,” Yuuri says, and moves that much closer, resting a leg atop Victor’s, their noses just brushing. He sees Victor’s eyes go wide, his expression relaxing by fractions. “C’mere.”

His fingertips brush against Victor’s face, which feels just faintly rough with the stubble that Victor has grown since yesterday morning’s shave. The closer Yuuri moves, the more he can see the longing in Victor’s face, his lips parting once more, and he takes this as an invitation to kiss Victor deeply, thoroughly. He and Victor have had so much time to learn how to handle one another — how to soothe over a bad mood or make the other feel appreciated — and so Yuuri knows, instinctively, that right now, for whatever reason, Victor has woken up feeling insecure, imperfect. And so right now Yuuri needs, above all else, to make Victor understand just how cherished and loved he is, simply for being himself.

It’s the little things that tip Yuuri off to how Victor’s feeling: things like insisting on having his teeth brushed before a kiss, as though Yuuri might be put off by his breath not being perfectly minty at all times. Things like jerking away and apologizing, all because he made his asexual fiance aware that he gets morning wood.

(As if Yuuri would be upset by that. He gets it himself too, after all, a slightly embarrassing byproduct of hormonal shifts and having a clingy bed partner.)

But Victor gets like this sometimes: too smooth, too polished, even in front of Yuuri. Yuuri, who has had panic attacks in front of Victor, who has eaten half of the ornamental fruit basket in their kitchen before realizing it was wax, who Victor should have no need to impress anymore. But the pressure of simply being Victor Nikiforov, it seems, remains a heavy one, and certain habits run too deep.

And so he pulls Victor closer, kissing him slow and sweet, nipping gently at his lower lip. It goes on like this for several lovely minutes, Victor warm in his arms, before Victor gives a surprised little moan, pulling away.

“Yuuri,” he says. His voice sounds ragged. “We should… I-I need to stop.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says, pulling back just enough to let Victor breathe, but still leaving his hands where they are, cupping Victor’s face. He notices that Victor’s cheeks are a beautiful crimson color, his eyes wide and dark, before he pulls back again, out of Yuuri’s reach.

“I’ll…” Victor’s throat bobs nervously. “I’ll be right back. I have to take care of something first.”

He turns, pulling back the covers to put one of his feet on the floor, and Yuuri quickly sits up behind him, resting a gentle hand on his back- not firmly enough to stop Victor, but enough to make his presence known.

“You don’t have to leave for that,” he says, because he knows just as well as Victor does what it is he’s about to ‘take care of’ in the bathroom, alone, away from Yuuri. It’s far from the first time that they’ve gotten a little too deep into kissing, that Victor’s become so aroused from being close to Yuuri that he’s had to make his excuses and furtively jerk off in the bathroom. Yuuri can’t say he can relate to the feeling… although it is flattering, in its way.

What he doesn’t like is Victor trying to hide, like it’s shameful. It’s somehow worse because they’ve been through this before, and Victor seemed to have gotten over whatever was holding him back then.

Victor looks back at him in surprise, and Yuuri carries on.

“Stay,” he says, crawling across the bed towards him. “Let me see you this time.”

He reaches where Victor is sitting and presses a light kiss to the corner of his mouth; he feels Victor inhale, sharply, but he doesn’t move.

“You…” Victor bites his top lip, eyes darting away. “You don’t have to watch me.”

“But I’d like to.” Yuuri tilts his head, studying Victor’s expression. He can sense Victor holding something back, even as his eyes flash with interest. “What do you think?”

He’s been a participant, of sorts, in Victor’s pleasure once or twice before. They’ve gotten toys with remotes, so that Yuuri can provide Victor stimulation even from outside the bedroom, sometimes coming back in time to hold his fiance as he climaxes, sometimes not. Those previous occasions had been Yuuri’s idea too, his own gratification coming from the idea that he was taking care of Victor even for this most intimate of moments.

But Victor has never actively let him watch before. And judging from the look on Victor’s face, it looks like he’d never considered it as an option.

“Why…” Victor turns, kneeling at the edge of the bed in front of Yuuri, looking intently at him. “What would you get out of that?”

Yuuri smiles, tucking a lock of hair behind Victor’s ear.

“We’ve done it before,” he reminds him. “I really like feeling like I’m taking care of you, like you trust me with every part of you. And… and watching you make yourself feel good… why wouldn’t I want to see that?” Victor is still staring at him, and just for a moment, Yuuri falters. “But,” he adds, “if you don’t want to, that’s f— mmph!”

He’s cut off by Victor’s mouth crashing into his, sending Yuuri falling onto his back. Victor settles over him, kissing the breath from him, and it’s all Yuuri can do to kiss him back, to hold him close. Victor’s bigger than he is, broader shoulders and a bit more muscle, and feeling his weight press him into the mattress… it makes Yuuri feel safe, protected, especially since he knows Victor doesn’t mean for it to go anywhere.

But Yuuri isn’t the one who needs to feel secure right now, and so he wraps one leg around Victor’s waist, deftly rolling the pair of them so that now Yuuri is on top, straddling Victor’s lap as Victor gapes up at him in awe.

“Wow,” he breathes, just as Yuuri bends down to kiss him again. Kissing Victor is intoxicating — it’s more than just the physical sensations of Victor’s mouth on his, his hands wandering up Yuuri’s back, the little sounds that Yuuri greedily drinks in. It’s the feeling of closeness, of being the only one who gets to see Victor like this, the only one Victor _wants_ to see him like this. Yuuri runs his fingertips down Victor’s chest.

“So,” he says, barely parting from Victor, “how does this usually start?”

Victor lets out a breathless laugh, and in the sound Yuuri can pick up a hint of nerves.

“You seem to have a pretty good idea already.” He runs his hands up Yuuri’s sides, playful, and Yuuri can’t help but giggle, feeling ticklish.

“Well, sure, but—” He climbs off of Victor, letting him sit up. “I told you I want to watch,” Yuuri says, and he feels a rush of heat to his face as he does so. “So…” He leans in, kisses Victor’s cheek, feather-light. “If you had left the room,” he murmurs, letting his lips trail along Victor’s cheekbone. “What would you be doing right now?”

He feels Victor swallow as his mouth trails over the hollow at Victor’s throat. He can see Victor palming the front of the leggings he wore to bed, subtly, as though trying to do it without Yuuri seeing, and Yuuri’s eyes flash.

“Show me,” he says, letting his voice go low and sultry, trying to embody his Eros character. “Mm...  _Vitenka_." He splays his fingers across Victor's chest, still nibbling his neck the way he's seen people do in films. "Don't hold back, baby."

But Victor is still stiff, tense, and Yuuri isn’t sure he understands it. He isn’t like this when they kiss, and he hasn’t been like this during those times before, when Yuuri got him off without touching him. He gently pulls back and raises Victor’s chin, wanting to meet his eyes.

“What is it?” he asks, dropping pretense for a moment. Victor keeps trying to put up walls between them, clearly uncomfortable, and it makes Yuuri afraid he's messed up somehow. “I’m sorry if this is too much. I can leave, give you some privacy… make us some breakfast…”

“No, don’t go,” Victor says, and he clings to Yuuri’s arm to reinforce the sentiment. “I’m sorry, I just… can’t get my head around this. Us, in bed together like this.”

Yuuri frowns. “Because I’m asexual?”

“No,” Victor says again, then winces. “Well, yes, but… not like you think.” He shifts away, facing Yuuri as they kneel on the bed, and Yuuri falls silent, wanting to hear what he’ll say. “I’ve never had a partner like you, Yuuri,” Victor says after a careful pause. “I’m so used to people wanting things from me. On the ice, when they see me on the street…” He swallows again. “And in bed, too. I was never forced into anything, but the people I was with… I was so used to them taking from me, not caring if I was satisfied too.”

“Victor,” Yuuri murmurs, reaching up to touch Victor’s cheek. He’s heard some of this before, but it breaks his heart every time to imagine no one had really _seen_ Victor — Yuuri’s beautiful, strong, loving Victor — in the years before they’d met. That no one had been able to look past Victor’s talent and status to see the tender heart that beat beneath his skin.

“B-but you,” Victor stammers, “you don’t demand things from me. Hell, you don’t give a damn about whether I’m a good lay or not.”

“True,” Yuuri shrugs, then realizes in horror what he said, how casually he said it. “That is,” he hastily adds, “I’m sure you’re fine. Um. Great, even.”

But Victor is chuckling, leaning forward to place a kind, understanding kiss on Yuuri’s mouth.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be used to you,” he says, and his eyes are crinkling upwards. “The idea that you care about my pleasure when you don’t get anything out of it… it’s still strange to me, that’s all.”

But that isn’t good enough for Yuuri, not now. It’s true that he and Victor have been together less than a year, but he doesn’t like the thought that his fiance might still find it so difficult to believe that anyone might put him first, instead of Victor having to swallow his feelings to please someone else.

And the idea that Yuuri gets ‘nothing’ out of this? Absurd.

“Vitya,” he says, and enjoys the way Victor’s expression softens at the name. “Do you remember that day at the beach, back in Hasetsu?”

“We spent a lot of days at the beach,” Victor says, but his eyes crinkle at the corners, and Yuuri knows that Victor knows the exact day he’s referring to.

“I told you that all I want is for you to be yourself with me,” Yuuri tells him, and cradles Victor’s jaw in one hand. “That hasn’t changed. It won’t ever. So what do I have to do to convince you?”

He hears Victor’s voice catch in his throat, and his forehead drops onto Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Yuuri,” he says, overcome, and Yuuri takes the opportunity to lay kisses across Victor’s forehead, brushing his hair out of the way so he can press his lips against skin.

“Love you so much, Vitya,” he whispers between kisses. “Love your receding hairline—” —he peppers kisses along it— “and your laugh lines, and your nose.”

He kisses each of these features in turn, the lines at the corners of Victor’s mouth and the long bridge of his nose, and Victor lets out a helpless laugh. “Yuuri…”

“Mm, and your crow’s feet.” Yuuri leaves careful kisses at the corners of each of Victor’s eyes, ignoring his scandalized gasp.

“I don’t _have_ crow’s feet. I’m twenty-eight! I moisturize!”

“Oh?” Yuuri kisses them again, more playfully. “Then what are these?”

“How dare you,” Victor says, but he’s still smiling, and Yuuri takes the opportunity to kiss the bow of his upper lip, which always tastes so sweet.

“It’s all right.” He smiles at Victor. “I’ll still love you exactly this much when we really are old.” Probably more, if he’s honest. His feelings for Victor have deepened so much in the past year that he doesn’t know if he’ll ever reach the bottom.

Victor bites his bottom lip, a subtle sign of nerves, before he leans in to kiss Yuuri passionately, taking his face in both his hands. Yuuri takes advantage of the momentary distraction to hold Victor’s hips, reminding him what they’re there to do.

“Show me what I want to see,” he murmurs right before diving in to taste Victor again. He hears his fiance curse, sees one of his hands disappear between his legs, still touching himself outside of his clothing. “Good. You’re so good, Vitya.”

He kisses Victor’s jaw, his neck, and ends up maneuvering them both so that Yuuri is sitting back against the headboard, Victor sprawled in his lap, his back to Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri himself is half-hard, a biological response from his body being so close to Victor’s, but he feels no urge to touch himself, to join Victor in what he’s doing. He’s too entranced in the way Victor seems to lose himself in this, the way his expression goes blissed out and blank.

“Vitya,” he says, and kisses Victor’s shoulder. “Can I take your shirt off?”

“Mm.” Victor’s head lolls back, thudding faintly against the headboard. “Don’t ask.”

Yuuri’s eyes go wide as he parses Victor’s meaning. There have been times when Victor asks, without saying directly, for Yuuri to take control, and he suspects that now might be one of those times.

He slips his hands under Victor’s shirt, resting his palms against Victor’s bare stomach so the shirt rides up a little. “I’m going to take this off you now,” he says, his voice soft, and Victor _moans_ in response, shifting to leave clumsy kisses on the underside of Yuuri’s chin. He rolls, half-twisting a little as he wrestles his arms out of his shirt, and Yuuri strips it off over his head, tousling Victor’s hair as he does so.

“Better,” he pronounces, and he can’t help raking his eyes over Victor’s torso. Victor’s heart is beautiful, but his body is too, and Yuuri can’t help but be entranced by the sight of him, as he always is. He may not feel sexual attraction toward Victor, but the aesthetic attraction is so, so real. “God, I could look at you forever.”

“You can,” Victor promises him breathlessly, twisting to smile up at him. He’s still lying on his side, his hips mindlessly thrusting against Yuuri’s thigh as they pin him in, and Yuuri raises an eyebrow.

“Now,” he says, resting a firm hand on Victor’s waist, and he stills almost instantly. “I recall telling you to touch yourself. Not to dry hump me.”

“S-sorry,” Victor stammers, frozen in Yuuri’s lap. He lets himself be manhandled back into position, and Yuuri rests his hands on the tops of Victor’s thighs, kneading the muscle there.

“Now,” Yuuri says, remaining stern; he’s seen the effect it has on Victor when he gives him orders, loves the way it makes his fiance go boneless and pliable. “I’ve been waiting so patiently. Are you ever going to show me all of you?”

He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Victor’s black leggings, and Victor’s hands shakily join his own. Together they work them down over Victor’s hips, his thighs, and Yuuri snags the elastic material to pull it all the way off, wadding up the material and tossing it to a far corner of the bed. Victor’s pale thighs are trembling, one hand curved protectively over his cock as it juts out proudly from between his legs. Yuuri’s familiar with the sight of it — the length of it, the way it curves, the dark red flush of the head when Victor is particularly aroused. Seeing Victor naked like this, spread out in his lap… he feels no surge of want, but only an urge to protect the man he loves when he’s this vulnerable.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the tendon in Victor’s neck, inhaling the scent of him. “You’re doing so well, Vitya.” Slowly, he sees Victor’s fingers curl around his erection, and he nods so Victor can feel it. “That’s it. Touch yourself. You know I want you to.”

Victor lets out an involuntary sigh as he finally takes himself properly in hand, and for a moment the only sound filling the room is the slight creak of the mattress beneath them, the little grunts caught in Victor’s throat. Yuuri keeps his mouth on Victor’s neck, trying to coax those sounds out, to encourage Victor to be as loud as he wants.

“I’m going to take my shirt off, too,” he says, struck by a sudden inspiration. “Would you like that?” Victor’s answering whine is all the response he needs, and so Yuuri whips his own shirt off, laying the fabric in his lap between him and Victor. It’s getting a little uncomfortable with Victor’s ass in such close proximity to his crotch, and the padding is enough to provide at least a bit of relief. And besides, it’s worth it to feel Victor’s heated skin against his own, beautifully soft and slightly sticky with sweat.

It’s exactly the kind of sensual connection he was craving, this early in the morning.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” he says, because it’s been a few minutes since Victor’s said any words to him.

Victor is panting, jerking himself off in earnest now.

“C-close,” he stammers.

Yuuri can’t help but blink in surprise. “Already?”

“Mm-mm.” Victor shakes his head _no_ , nuzzles the underside of Yuuri’s jaw. “To you.”

And somehow, the explicit confirmation that this is enough for Victor — this facsimile of sex where Yuuri won’t let Victor lay hands on him — is overwhelming to Yuuri. He nudges Victor’s face with his own, leans down to kiss him deeply, trying to express his overwhelming gratitude and love for this person who has always accepted Yuuri exactly for who he is.

“C-can I touch you?” he asks, seized with a sudden daring, trailing his fingertips over the back of Victor’s wrist where he’s still jerking himself off. The idea makes him nervous, but not exactly uncomfortable. Victor’s penis is just another part of him, after all.

“Mmm…” Victor gives a quick little shake of his head. “Not my cock. I wanna do it. But… but other places…”

Yuuri smiles, rewarding Victor for setting that boundary by kissing him again, quickly, on his mouth, his nose, his cheeks. He feels Victor’s other hand grip the back of Yuuri’s thigh, as if to ground himself, and Yuuri lets his own hands freely wander Victor’s torso, stroking his arm, cupping the flesh of his pec like a breast.

“ _Fuck_ , you’re so beautiful,” he sighs, mouth pressed against Victor’s temple. He hears Victor gasp, feels the way his pace quickens. “I’ve always thought so. Ever since I was a kid, I wanted people to think I was as beautiful as you.”

“You are,” Victor murmurs, his fist a blur over his cock now.

“No,” Yuuri gently corrects, and kisses his temple. “Not like you are. I used to think the most beautiful sight was you when you skate, but I was wrong. You’re never more beautiful than when you let people see you as you are. Like right now.”

Victor laughs breathlessly. “Not _right_ right now, surely.”

Yuuri chuckles too, flushing as he realizes what he’s said. “I don’t mean naked. I mean… I mean honest. Vulnerable. Do you have any idea how it makes me feel, when you open up to me? Knowing you trust me to take care of you?”

“Yuuri,” Victor moans, and his hips arch off the bed. Yuuri can see his shaft glistening with precome, knows his love must be getting close to coming.

“You don’t have to do anything alone anymore, Vitenka,” Yuuri murmurs. He presses one palm flat over Victor’s heart, his other hand circling one of his nipples with a fingernail. “Not when you don’t want to. Not even this.”

He closes his fingertips around the rosy bud, and Victor gasps audibly, a noise that almost sounds like Yuuri’s name, as he writhes in Yuuri’s lap. His knuckles have gone almost white; the hand touching Yuuri’s thigh has dug in his nails in a way that Yuuri is almost sure will leave marks. Yuuri hides his smile in Victor’s hair, glad to finally have confirmation that Victor is as sensitive here as he’d always suspected.

“No more holding back, my koibito,” he says, moving his other hand to Victor’s other nipple so he can stimulate both at the same time. “Let go.”

And Victor does, moaning something in unintelligible Russian as he slumps against Yuuri’s chest, his cock ejaculating thick white semen all over his belly. His entire body seems to go slack as it happens, his head sliding off Yuuri’s shoulder to land in the crook of his elbow, and Yuuri cradles him close to his chest, raking his fingers through Victor’s soft hair. Victor’s hand keeps moving through his orgasm, fingers suddenly clumsy and lethargic, and Yuuri meets his eyes for permission before closing his fingers over Victor’s, helping him milk himself through it.

He keeps his gaze fixed on Victor’s face, looking for any signs of discomfort or embarrassment, but he can find only naked love and adoration there, in a way he only finds during Victor’s most vulnerable moments. He remembers, with a sudden keenness, the first time Victor had cried in front of him, how he’d kept apologizing through tears for being upset, until Yuuri had simply pulled him close, stroking his hair and murmuring soothing words. He can barely remember now what was said, or even why Victor had been crying in the first place; but he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the way Victor had looked at him in complete awe, as though disbelieving that anyone would take the time to validate his feelings instead of order him to get over them.

This is a happier context, to be sure, but Yuuri feels the same connection and love between them now, Victor’s heart beating in time with his own.

“You,” Victor says after several long minutes, and he licks his lips before offering Yuuri a warm smile, dimples indenting his cheeks. “You truly are full of surprises, Katsuki Yuuri.”

“Am I really that surprising?” he teases with a smile, his fingertips lightly scratching Victor’s scalp. This is the Victor he loves to see best, unrestrained and joyful. He wants to hold onto this Victor forever.

“Yes.” Victor finally pries his hand free from Yuuri’s thigh to pet his stomach, embarrassingly close to Yuuri’s stretch marks, but Yuuri finds he can easily allow it. “Do you know,” he says after a moment, “that I was relieved at first when you came out to me?”

Yuuri blinks. Back then, he’d been so convinced that his lack of interest in sex would only be a burden to a partner; even his experiences with Victor since then have done only taken baby steps to dissuade him from this way of thinking. “I… n-no, I didn’t know that.”

“I mean, I’d thought about it,” Victor says, his voice still soft in the way it is when he’s being open, like he’s still afraid someone might hear him. “Us, together. After the banquet in Sochi, for about a week, it was all I could think about. It was only when I came to Hasetsu that I realized I was falling into old patterns, trying to be someone else to please the person I liked, and I started to dread you finally taking me up on my offer to sleep together.”

Yuuri is quiet at first, trying to digest all of this. “You still kept asking, though.”

Victor laughs softly. “I was enamored. I thought I could have borne it if that meant you’d finally pay attention to me.”

And the thought of that makes Yuuri’s heart hurt so much that he can’t help but lean down, press several kisses on Victor’s wide forehead, a spot he knows is one of his biggest insecurities. Accepting this perceived flaw just like he embraces all of Victor.

“I was paying attention,” he tells Victor now. “I just didn’t know what I was feeling, let alone how to talk about it.”

Victor smiles, top lip bowing. “I know that _now_. I think at the time I was a bit too caught up in the narrative I’d painted in my mind of you as the dashing playboy, breaking hearts in every town.”

Yuuri snorts. “That’s you, not me.”

“No, it’s _you_ ,” Victor says, poking Yuuri’s side and making him squeal. “We’re not having this argument again. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is… you came out to me, told me you wanted me but didn’t want sex, and so I was more than content to box up that part of myself. Up until then, I had never considered the possibility that I could keep you close to me without sex, and…” His cheeks turn faintly pink. “And being close to you was what I really wanted, after all.”

“Hmm.” Yuuri runs the backs of his knuckles along Victor’s jaw. “And now here we are.”

“Here we are,” Victor echoes, taking the back of Yuuri’s hand and kissing his ring. “Thank you for helping me understand I can open up to you without being pushed away.”

Yuuri bows his head, overwhelmed, the ends of his bangs brushing Victor’s forehead. He takes Victor’s right hand to kiss his own ring before bending down further to kiss Victor’s swollen mouth. He isn’t sure that Victor should be the one thanking him, not when Victor was the first person to help him realize he could be loved like this. What they do, on the rare occasions they do this, feels less like a compromise and more like a communion where they can both get the things they crave: Yuuri, the knowledge that he has Victor’s trust, and Victor, the certainty that Yuuri embraces every part of him.

He doesn’t think he would have been brave enough to ask for it if he hadn’t already known of Victor’s love and acceptance of him.

“Thank you, too,” he tells Victor, taking his discarded sleep shirt from his lap so he can clean up the sticky, cooling mess on Victor’s stomach. “For trusting me enough to be open with me.”

He scoots down a little so he’s resting against their pillows, Victor still snuggled up in his lap, arms wrapped around each other’s middles. There’s a contentment that rests deep in his bones when they hold each other — any time, not only when Victor is postcoital — and Yuuri finds himself wanting to luxuriate in the feeling, in their closeness, in the sensual slide of Victor’s bare chest against his. He reaches out, tugging their sheet out from under them so he can drape it over Victor’s bare legs, and he hears his fiance let out a contented sigh.

“So,” he says, leaving a kiss on the whorl atop Victor’s head. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Mm.” Victor snuggles deeper into his chest. “You pick.”

Eventually, tragically, Yuuri will have to pry himself free from his warm, protesting fiance to shuffle off into the kitchen. But when he returns twenty minutes later with slices of tamagoyaki for them to share, the rolled omelet cut into heart shapes, Victor will pounce on him once again for another round of kisses and cuddles, feeding each other bites of breakfast in between.

All in all, Yuuri thinks to himself, he can’t imagine a better start to his day.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment below if you enjoyed! I've been trying to get back into some kind of writing groove and kind words from readers really go a long way. :)


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